


Abyssal Plains

by FolleDeJoie



Category: Pilgrimage (2017)
Genre: Horror AU, Implied Violence, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, and i will never apologise for that, besotted david, correct forest etiquette, dad!ciaran keeps me alive honestly, detective rua, i'm terrible at tags, if you go down to the woods today, inspired by my love of 80s and also my own university writing project, let me know and i'll whack a proper tag on it, rua vapes and that's a fact, slightly dub con in chap 3, sweetheart diarmuid, they are soft boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:40:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27112750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FolleDeJoie/pseuds/FolleDeJoie
Summary: He settled down at his desk with the largest cup of coffee that he could find and took out the SD card, sliding it into the slot in his computer and waiting patiently for it to load up.He let out a large sigh and thanked whatever deity was around when the folder finally loaded, and he saw that there was almost two hours of footage in total with different video files of varying lengths.Detective Rua took a large gulp of his coffee as he settled back in his chair and clicked the first file in the folder.-Something's not quite right in the woods, and Detective Rua is going to figure out what it is - whether he likes it or not.(a short halloween fic for the spooky season)
Relationships: Brother Diarmuid & The Mute, Brother Diarmuid/The Mute
Comments: 20
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been in a bit of a slump the last few days, and this idea came to me earlier and wouldn't let go, so in celebration of Spooktober and a way to kickstart the creative bug, here is a small fic! It is horror themed so like... be warned, with everything that surrounds the genre. 
> 
> I'm also very tired and i've tried to edit this as much as possible but if you find an error... let me know haha

The moment that the forensics team had declared that they’d taken every sample they needed from the camera, Rua had swooped in and commandeered it before they could change their minds. It was one of – if not the most- crucial pieces of evidence they had, and ever since they found it in the destroyed campsite he had thought of little else.

Whatever had happened, he knew that the small device was the key to figuring it out.

He settled down at his desk with the largest cup of coffee that he could find and took out the SD card, sliding it into the slot in his computer and waiting patiently for it to load up. There was a chance that the card and the device had been victim to the element for a few days before it had been found, and he held his breath in anticipation as his desktop searched for the files. If they couldn’t be read, he knew that whatever chance they had of finding the hikers – dead or alive- would be slimmer than ever.

Letting out a large sigh and thanking whatever deity was around when the folder finally loaded, and he saw that there was almost two hours of footage in total with different video files of varying lengths.

The detective took a large gulp of his coffee as he settled back in his chair and clicked the first file in the folder.

_It opened onto a hallway, an apartment by the looks of things and based on Rua’s own experience with loft layouts. Someone’s off-key singing and the music that the detective vaguely recognised reverberated almost hauntingly through the rooms, growing louder as the cameraman moved silently towards an open door._

_Passing through the threshold and into their kitchen, a young man’s back was turned to the camera and he was stood over the counter, chopping and singing along joyfully. The camera was still as it focussed on the body that swayed and the feet that tapped to the rhythm. The young man put the knife down and swiped the vegetables into a pot in the sink, giving it a few taps in time to the beat before throwing it haphazardly back onto the counter._

_He turned around and nearly jumped out of his skin, letting out a sharp yelp and grabbing the counter behind him in fright. It lasted only a moment before his face lit up in relief, a large unbelieving smile replacing his shock._

_“David! You almost gave me a heart attack!” The young man laughed, grabbing a towel from behind him and throwing it at the cameraman – David, Rua wrote down in his notes._

_The camera dipped to show a pair of weathered boots, the type used by construction workers or tradesmen, before the camera shut off._

The detective took note of the so-far nameless man’s accent, a fellow Irishman it would seem. He screenshotted and emailed the man’s face to his partner before clicking on the next file.

_This time it was inside a moving car in the daylight, the camera facing the winding empty main road in front of them, and Rua made a note of the sign they passed. It was a road he recognised, heading away from the town and towards the mountains, picking out the familiar potholes and the outcrops of pine that thickened the longer they drove._

_“I don’t know if it’s on or not.” the voice from before said from behind the camera, thick with frustration. The shot dipped and Rua got a good look at denim shorts on pale legs, feet clad in battered red converse and a stuffed backpack lying on the ground beside them._

_“Check the light.” An unfamiliar husky voice stated, and after a moment the first voice cried out in triumph._

_The camera tilted and Rua finally met who he presumed to be David. The man had dark unruly curls and an impressively thick beard, and the plaid shirt over his plain white tee really gave off mountain man vibes. He had one hand on the steering wheel and the other leaning on the open window, posture relaxed as he kept his eyes on the road._

_“What do you have to say for yourself?” the Irishman lilted cheekily, and David’s lips quirked into a half-smile as he shook his head. “Oh come on, surely you don’t want to disappoint your adoring audience.”_

_The older man snorted and ran his free hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He glanced over a few times before letting out a put-upon sigh, fingers tapping on the wheel. “What does my adoring audience want me to say?”_

_“I don’t know… anything! Start with what we’re doing, maybe?” the Irishman asked, and David chuckled softly._

_“You know what we’re doing.” He said, glancing over playfully and smirking at the dramatic sigh from behind the camera._

_“Pretend I don’t, you spoilsport” the voice continued. The older man rolled his eyes shifted in his seat._

_“Hiking.” He stated bluntly. After a few moments on silence the man behind the camera cleared his throat pointedly. “And camping. Hiking and camping.”_

_“And why are we hiking and camping?” the voice stressed petulantly, urging him on._

_“Because,” David mimicked the tone, before he seemed to soften up. He switched hands on the steering wheel and reached over to lay his free hand on the other man’s thigh just out of shot. “Someone thought it would make a nice engagement present.”_

_“I think you mean the_ best _engagement present.” The Irishman said, his own tone softening. David looked beyond the camera and nodded, and Rua would have to be a blind man not to see the adoration held in his gaze despite the unimpressed quirk of one eyebrow. David turned back to the road, and the voice behind the camera started started laughing before the camera shut off._

' _Just two normal sweethearts on holiday'_ , Rua thought to himself. They seemed comfortable enough around one another, and he couldn’t feel any hostility or aggravation from either party. It helped him to rule out foul play on their end, but it still didn’t explain what had happened to them, and so he pushed on.

Most of the older videos were small snippets of the beginning of their hike, glimpses into their happiness. He learned the Irishman’s name was Diarmuid through a scene of David waist-deep in the river, washing the soap out of his eyes and beckoning the young man to put the camera down and come join him. It all seemed so… normal.

Towards the end of the list of videos is when that irksome niggle in the back of his mind became a full blown itch. Whereas most of the videos were taken in the daytime, a moment when things somehow seem less frightening, the latter half of the list was almost completely shrouded in darkness.

Some of the videos were barely ten seconds long, some as little as two, as if someone had mistakenly pressed the record button. As if they’d reached blindly for the camera in the dark.

The last video, however, was the longest of them all.

_It opened shakily and Rua’s hackles immediately rose at the sound of Diarmuid’s ragged and panicked wheezing. He was walking through the pitch black forest, twigs and branches snapping with his every step, his path barely illuminated with the in-built light on the camera._

_“Come back,” Diarmuid whimpered, his voice barely rising above a whisper. “This isn’t funny!”_

_He sniffed and sobbed, even as he continued to traipse through the looming forest. An owl hooted and a heavy branch cracked in the background as the camera jolted quickly in shock. The young man spun in a circle, giving the detective the opportunity to see the campsite some hundred meters in the direction he had come from._

_“David…?” he whispered, clearing his throat before speaking slightly louder. “ **Please,** don’t leave me alone out here…!”_

_Diarmuid paused a moment and held his breath, as if listening out for something. Rua felt his own breath catch in his lungs in a type of unconscious solidarity with the young man._

_Something cracked to the right of him, much louder and closer than before. He went to turn towards the sound, and Rua flinched at the sound of Diarmuid’s sudden blood-curdling scream. A blur flashed in front of the camera and a raspy, animalistic screech was heard and stopped in almost an instant. The camera fell to the ground and Rua’s blood ran cold as he listened to Diarmuid’s hoarse cries and screams as they grew fainter and fainter in the night before disappearing altogether._

_There were crashing and ripping sounds, the clinking and thuds of metal objects being flung to the ground, but soon they too stopped._

_When the sounds of cicadas and nocturnal life were the only things to be heard for a few minutes, Rua shook his head to clear the disbelief and shock that had paralysed him, before shakily skipping forward a few minutes at a time. He skipped past twenty minutes of video time before he could pick out the sound of hurried footsteps in the distance, growing louder by the second._

_He heard David calling out Diarmuid’s name in panic. The footsteps abruptly came to a halt and he saw David’s weathered and speckled boots in front of the camera. Rua heard a soft ‘no’ and David crouched down to gently pick up the camera._

_The taller man let out a small sob, as he shakily grabbed the camera and ran back towards the camp, using the camera once more as a torch. What he found was absolute chaos: their once neatly organised site had been practically uprooted to its core: the tent practically lay in ruins, poles crumpled and bent and the fabric slashed and torn; their equipment had been bashed around and thrown haphazardly to the ground, and to both Rua and David’s horror there was no trace of Diarmuid to be found._

_“Diarmuid!” David called out, voice hoarse and panicked as the camera jerked in his grip. The torch swept over their campsite, and Rua’s frown deepened at the sight of jagged holes in the overturned tent. Pieces of camping equipment were strewn around the small clearing, illuminated by the lingering campfire they must’ve built._

_It was exactly the way Rua remembered seeing it when his team had finally tracked it, but that had been in the light of day. Seeing it at night was an entirely different experience: the trees seemed to curl in on themselves and around the sight, claustrophobic and oppressive, and he felt a second-hand lead weight of dread pooling in the pit of his stomach._

_“ **Diarmuid**!” David screamed, and goose bumps broke out on the detective skin at absolute anguish held in that one word. It echoed through the clearing and into the pines, and for a moment all that the camera picked up were the crackling of embers and the cicadas singing on the ground. David sounded like he was inhaling shakily through his nose, listening out for any sort of reply. He was mumbling something that Rua couldn’t quite make out and had him turning up the volume to max: his chest clenched as he heard the word ‘please’ repeating hurriedly under his breath._

_From the midnight clearing emanated a sudden horrific boar-like screeching that_ had the detective jolting in his seat and ripping the headphones off as fast as he could.

He quickly pressed the pause button and pushed away from his desk, rubbing his palms over his ears and taking steady breaths to calm his speeding pulse.

He was used to his fair share of tame and wild animals, whether it be through his work or through the hunts he’d been on with his father as a teen. He’d paid attention in biology class and sat through enough nature documentaries in his lifetime. He knew what things were supposed to sound like. But that noise… It was unlike anything he’d ever heard. It sounded wrong not just to his ears but to his very core, like his body was rejecting it. As if mixture of all animals had come together and cried out as one, an orchestra of… _something_ accompanying them.

He took a deep breath and reached for a sip of his ice-cold coffee to calm his nerves. Whatever it was, he knew he couldn’t quit now. He slid the headphones back on and turned the volume down as low as he comfortably could, and a trembling finger pressed play.

_A booming sound came through the forest around him. Like a stampede of large animals shaking the trees and galloping through the undergrowth, an answering screech resonated through the clearing and piercing his eardrums despite the lowered volume. The camera spun around, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from but all he could see was the forest, barely illuminated by the moon and the amber glow of the fire and camera’s torch._

_The wailing swelled in the night, a cacophony of horrifying noise that had his teeth grinding together painfully. He didn’t understand what he was hearing, and he felt a pang of pity for David. At least he was safe in his police station despite the late hour: being outside, alone, disorientated, and hearing that? He could hardly fathom what the man had gone through._

_An unnatural buzzing and static sound burst through the ungodly choir, and just as he thought he couldn’t handle it anymore, the sound ceased._

_A high-pitched tone ached through his eardrums at the sudden silence, and his eyes widened in horror at what came next._

_A strange purple light began to glow through the trees, silhouetting the hulking pines and a shadow that moved between them as it grew brighter. Rua squinted at the screen, trying to make out what was approaching, when-_

_A figure, the clothing on its back horrifyingly familiar. The crunching and snapping of dried twigs beneath its strides sounded like breaking bones. On-screen, David’s breathing hitched and the camera fell down to his side before dropping to the ground completely and thoughtlessly. Though the angle was skewed, it still faced the direction of the approaching figure and the unnatural light that grew behind him._

_“Diarmuid…!” David repeated, relief palpable in his tone as he stumbled towards the figure. And it was, Rua realised. It was Diarmuid. Rua couldn’t see any signs of injury in the low light, no signs of torn clothing or blood, but he was limping with each step._

_But…that wasn’t quite right. He wasn’t limping. It was more like his whole body… shuddered. Like a puppet with loose strings._

_“I’m so sorry…” he heard David whine as he stumbled over to his fiancé. He was in arms reach when Diarmuid’s arms shot out in front of him, grasping and clawing at the older man’s shoulders and arms as his body started to crumble to the floor. His eyes were wide in terror and he was gasping like a fish out of water, harsh raspy croaks that Rua instinctively flinched away from. David crumbled with him to his knees, cupping the young man’s cheek and holding him up with an arm around his back._

_“What happened?” David begged, and Rua commended him on how steady his voice was. “ **Sweetheart,** what happened?”_

_Diarmuid’s inhales sounded like death rattles. He didn’t respond, didn’t even acknowledge the question, only continued to claw and grab at the older man._

_Rua was focussed so intensely on the distressed duo that he almost missed the sound of more branches cracking and bending underfoot. His stomach dropped as he realised they weren’t alone, that someone (or something) else had to be with them. He swallowed noisily and waited with bated breath for whoever it was to show themselves._

_David pressed a kiss to his fiancé’s cheek, to his forehead, gasping and shaking as he tried to comfort the wheezing and shell-shocked man. “I’m so sorry, I thought it was you, I’m so sorry…” he kept repeating, pressing their foreheads together._

_“We have to go,” he finally said, clearing his throat and pulling away so they were face to face. Diarmuid’s eyes were round as saucers as he stared at something over the man’s broad shoulder and his hands grappled with a newfound fervour. Rua’s hands tightened into fists as he watched….something, slink up behind the man. He couldn’t make it out fully, a black blur as if the camera itself couldn’t pick it up properly or had encountered some interference._

_“Listen to me, I'll carry you, okay? I've got you but we have to leave right now, something’s not-”_

_A loud crack snapped through the clearing and David’s body collapsed on its side as if struck, bringing Diarmuid down along with him. The Irishman moaned in terror as he continued to shake and grip at his fiancé’s listless shape, and Rua watched as the black blur seemed to stalk around them the way that he had seen predators do in the wild. The last image before the video cut out was the black blur shifting around to David’s side and hauling the man halfway off the ground easily as it started to drag him off camera._

Rua sat in silence for a long moment. He stared at the black screen, seeing his own horrified reflection staring back at him.

Whatever he’d just seen, there wasn’t… he’d never…

It was impossible.

His brain seemed to kick start into motion and he leaned back into his chair as the questions started pouring in.

Why had David been gone? What had happened to Diarmuid in those few minutes? What was that unholy screeching he’d heard? The purple light?

He picked up his phone with a trembling hand and pressed the speed-dial for his partner’s desk. As he told him to come to his office – and bring the entire pot of coffee- there was one question that stood out and circled his thoughts, one that he hoped he could answer.

Where had they both _gone_?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re heading back there,” he said, determination pushing through his tone. He glanced out the window just to see the low hanging afternoon sun, and his stomach clenched anxiously. “But I’m gonna need a bigger torch.”
> 
> -
> 
> The search continues.

It was sheer chance that they’d found the truck.

Rather, someone had been out for a hike with their dogs and had stumbled across the vehicle, its doors wide open and the majority of its contents strewn around the area. For the car to even be out there in the first place, high among the mountains with barely a dirt track to speak of, was strange. Stranger still was the lack of driver.

The hiker had called it in as soon as they could, and thus began the search. There’d been worries about bears in the area: although it was uncommon for that time of year, it wasn’t impossible to think that the driver had been set upon and attempted to flee in their fright. The chaotic remnants of the vehicles’ interior scattered in the vicinity were proof enough that something had picked it apart.

The rangers had been called in, and soon there was a small squad scouring the hillsides for any sign of the disappeared driver. The forests were beautiful, but the terrain could be temperamental and unforgiving to those who didn’t tread lightly. Sinkholes and cave-ins weren’t unheard of in the area, and one wrong step in the wrong place at the wrong time could be disastrous to the untrained hiker.

It hadn’t taken them long to come across the remnants of the campsite that Rua had seen first-hand and in the videos. The knee-jerk reaction was ‘animal’: something big had lumbered its way into the campsite, and the campers had fled. Case closed.

But for Rua, something just didn’t add up. Why would they run to the car, which appeared to have a full tank of petrol, but not drive away? Were they attacked at the car first, and then made a run for the campsite? And if it had been an animal… why were their food supplies not ravaged?

Finding the camera had seemed to be a blessing, a way to figure out what had really happened. But after having watched through the tapes, Rua’s unease and confusion had only intensified.

He hadn’t seen them killed. It niggled him throughout the night, even as he dragged himself back to his apartment at an unholy time to try and catch a few hours of rest. Despite his exhaustion, sleep didn’t come easily to him. He tossed and turned, unable to get the strange images out of his minds eye; when he did eventually sleep, his dreams were plagued with sharp teeth and purple tones and unfathomably ancient screams.

It was early the next morning as Rua was going over the video files and taking as many notes and observations as he could, that the call came through.

The couple had been identified.

Diarmuid’s father, and officer in his own right a few counties over, had seen the blurry screenshot of his son on the missing persons page. He’d left with his fiancé at the beginning of the week and he expected them to return at the end. Seeing his face on the official server had been a shock, to say the least.

He’d declared that he was driving over to join them in the search and rescue as soon as he could, and that he expected to be fully briefed on what had happened to his boy – and why they hadn’t found him yet.

“We’ve already expanded the search to a five mile radius,” Rua had explained, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exhaustion. “But it’s not that simple, sir. The terrain here is tricky to navigate even for some of our best hikers, and the man power-”

“ _I’m well aware of that, Detective._ ” The older man had interrupted, his voice straining. “ _I’m letting you know that I’ll be with you in two hours and I’m not leaving until we find him._ ”

With that the line disconnected, and Rua cursed and slammed his phone on his desk harder than usual. The whole case was a mess, and the clock that hung over their heads ticked down every moment they hadn’t found the couple alive.

A part of him knew that it was unlikely they’d find them at this point. From their calculations and the time frame given to them, they’d already been missing for two days. The search and rescue had yet to find a scrap of clothing or a footprint outside of the campsite.

Staring at the still shot of David and Diarmuid on the ground, the black distortion lingering behind them, he had the suspicion that they weren’t meant to.

His partner had gone to grab another coffee and having a couple of hours until the father arrived, Rua took the time to go over the videos with fresh eyes. He knew now what to expect, the shock of the night before having worn off even if the unease hadn’t.

Grabbing his notebook and getting himself comfortable, he clicked on one of the earlier ones that was time stamped roughly two days into their hike.

_It was probably midday judging by the position of the sun on the horizon and the light that slipped through the trees. The camera panned slowly to the right, displaying the ridge they were standing on and the sprawling forests and mountains that lay in the distance. It stretched on for miles and miles, enough to make anyone believe that civilisation was well and truly behind them._

_“This place is really stunning…” came Diarmuid’s voice from behind the camera, breathless in its awe. “We should bring my da’ here, I think he’d like it.”_

_David hummed off camera and the sound of gravel shuffling around indicated that he’d stepped closer to the younger man. The camera swept over and there David stood, shirt tied around his waist and hands in his pockets, admiring the view. He looked at ease and unburdened._

_“Something caught your eye, Mr Murray?” Diarmuid baited in a way that had David snorting and brushing the sweat from his brow. He looked over at him with a cocked brow and a glint in his eyes._

_“You could say that…” he replied teasingly, smile growing at Diarmuid’s affronted splutters and rebukes. The older man stepped closer until the camera was pushed up against his chest, giving viewer a great close-up of his white tee._

_He heard Diarmuid’s small sigh and the light smack of lips meeting lips. The younger man lifted his arm up to wrap it around David’s neck, giving him a nice view of the canyon and flora._

Rua was about to switch to another video when something caught his eye in the footage that he hadn’t seen on his first viewing.

He paused the clip, zooming in as best as he could and squinting at the blurred picture.

There was a space between the trees that on first glance looked like a shadow. As he stared at the image, he felt the niggle that had been frustrating him since the case began return to the back of his mind. It was just a shadow, it supplied, but his gut told him something was… off. Wrong. Like the dark blur was warping inwards, taking with it the colour and the light from the area: it reminded him of the black holes he’d seen in the movies and documentaries about the cosmos.

He’d overlooked it the first time, but after having watched the last video…

Whatever had attacked them had been watching them for days and they’d been unaware of it. All that time it had tailed them, kept at bay just enough to not draw suspicion.

Whatever had attacked them had waited. Bided its time.

Whatever it was, it was intelligent enough to plan.

A cold lump formed in his stomach.

Whatever it was… it couldn’t be an animal.

Ciaran Lynch arrived without any fanfare. His pace was hurried, and when he spoke he was straight to the point. He hardly gave the other officers the time of day once they’d guided him towards Rua’s office, and it was there that he was finally confronted with the father, not the officer: his brows were furrowed with impatience and worry, eyes red rimmed and pale skin flushed as he briefly introduced himself and got straight down to business.

He wanted to know how many officers and rangers were still out in the mountains looking, if they had his son-in-law’s car already at the depot, if there’d been any advancements during his drive. Rua answered him as best he could with what he knew, annoyed that there wasn’t more that he could give without coming off as a loon.

Ciaran demanded to be shown the campsite. He wanted to see it for himself, was determined that he could shed a light that the officer’s couldn’t. Rua had hesitantly thought to let the man see the videos first, but Diarmuid’s horrified screams still echoed in his brain. Letting the man see the campsite for himself first was perhaps the only kindness that he could afford at that point.

The drive to the campsite was done in almost silence, neither man motioning to speak even after the pulled up at the closest spot they could before having to get out and walk the rest of the way.

The campsite had been cordoned off to their best abilities. It was only lucky that they hadn’t had a drop of rain to spoil the scene.

The detective took a deep drag of his vape pen and watched Ciaran as he stepped under the police tape, treading lightly around the chaos left behind. Most of the things they’d deemed ‘crucial evidence’ had been taken, but they hadn’t had time to deal with the rest.

The older man inhaled sharply as he gently touched the bent frame of the tent with two fingers, before pressing on and crouching down to prod at a torn shirt.

He stood, taking the shirt with him, and glanced around the area with a keen eye that came with the job.

“No blood.” He stated, wandering over to the ashen remnants of the campfire.

Rua blew out the large cloud of smoke and shook his head, pocketing the vape and wandering over to stand next to him. The both looked out at the clearing and the pines that circled them.

He thought of what he’d seen in the video the night before: the way the trees had seemed to curl in and around themselves, oppressive and looming, and that uncanny feeling left a sour taste in his mouth as he watched the breeze sway through the branches.

“If they’re injured, they’ll have taken shelter somewhere.” Ciaran continued, nodding decisively. “Diarmuid’s no fool, and David’s no stranger to this type of situation.”

“His file said he’s a marine,” Rua said, thinking back on the extensive list of accolades and assignments the man had been rewarded before his sudden and inexplicable honourable discharge.

“He was. Architecture now, carpentry. Keeps his mind occupied, most of the time.” Ciaran explained, glancing down at the shirt. “Pretty sure Diarmuid occupies the rest.”

“Do you think…” Rua started, hating himself for bringing it up even though it was a door that he had to close, “there might be the possibility that being out here, like this, could’ve maybe…?”

“No.” Ciaran stated solidly, finally looking at the detective with a keen glint in his eyes. “He’s experienced his fair share of violence, but he’s not a violent man. Whatever he brought back, he’s dealt with it for himself and for Diarmuid. They deal with it together.”

The older officer glanced back down at the shredded shirt in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over it tenderly. “David wouldn’t let anything happen to my boy, and he’s the strongest man I know. I trust him. That’s how I know they’re still alive.”

Rua hummed in affirmation, thinking about the videos he’d seen of their happier times. The adoration, the comfort, the love.

He caught himself staring at the same spot from the last shot of the video. He remembered the shudders and the rasping breaths, the solid crack as the big man collapsed.

Whatever they were going through, they were going through together.

Rua just hoped that that would be enough.

Ciaran had asked to be alone when reviewing the footage, but Rua was forced to decline with a shake of his head and the heaviest weight on his shoulders.

“I have to warn you that what I’ve found might be… upsetting for you,” the detective started, perching on the desk and handing the older man a cup of tea. _To say the least_ , he thought to himself.

“I think you’re forgetting what line of business I’m in,” The older man retorted. “and I think I have the right to watch my own son’s home movies, alone.”

“Mr Lynch…” Rua took a moment to steady himself. “You’ll forgive me when I say that I don’t think any parent should be alone with what we’re about watch.”

Ciaran’s face grew pale and his whole posture seemed to contract, shoulders tensing and hands clenching around the mug. It took a moment before he cleared his throat and nodded towards the empty seat next to him, which Rua took gratefully.

His cursor hesitated over the first file, but at the last moment he changed his mind. What they needed was time and skipping to the end would at least save some of it.

He took a deep breath and braced himself as he opened the file, once again confronted with _Diarmuid’s ragged and panicked wheezing. He was walking through the pitch black forest, twigs and branches snapping with his every step, his path…_

Once the video had ended, there was only silence.

The muffled sounds of the bustling station outside the office door seemed almost too loud after what they’d just sat through, Rua for what felt like the hundredth time.

He glanced over and saw Ciaran’s hand covering his mouth, tears running from his wide eyes. He was barely breathing, staring at the screen unseeingly, and Rua had a flashback to his own reaction the night before.

“Mr Lynch…” the detective spoke softly, trying to rouse the almost catatonic man without startling him. The older officer came back to himself after a moment, sniffing loudly and wiping his eyes roughly with his palm.

“This can’t be real…” He said, his voice rasped and hoarse. Rua nodded in sympathy, running a hand through his short hair.

“That’s what I thought too, but-” he started, but flinched when the man pushed the chair back with a loud screech and stood up.

“This is some kind of cruel joke,” he said, his voice rising in his indignation. He slammed his untouched mug on the table and set about gathering his coat. “whoever put you up to this is some kind of sick and twisted bastard-”

“Mr Lynch-” Rua got up too, trying to temper the man down as he felt his own annoyance growing.

“This is perverse!” The elder shouted, rounding on the detective with a finger pointed in his direction. “You had me sat through this… this… _thing_ ” he spat, “when I could’ve been out _there_ , looking for my son-”

“ _Ciaran_!” Rua yelled, knowing that the only way was through. “You think I don’t know what this looks like? How insane this is?” he shouted, gesturing at the desktop.

Ciaran scoffed in disbelief, but Rua persisted.

“This is the only clue we have to what happened to your son, and no matter how crazy it seems we have to follow it through. Now, I can’t begin to explain the… the _thing_ in the video, or _why_ they were taken, but right now that’s not important.”

The detective stepped forward and clapped the man on the shoulder, anchoring them both in the moment.

“What is important is _where_ it took them. Do you understand?”

The older man sniffed and frowned, even as he nodded. Rua knew first-hand just how insane the situation was, but they were in this together now.

“David…” Ciaran started, clearing his throat as his face creased in concentration. “He was dragged. A man that size, it would’ve taken a long time to pull him to wherever it went. He would’ve left tracks, or a trail at the very least.”

“So why didn’t he?” Rua prodded, desperate for an answer. He couldn't explain it, had racked his brain for hours on end trying to figure out where they had gone. They can't have disappeared off the face of the earth, it wasn't possible, and for some unknown reason he felt like he was frantic for an answer. Maybe it was what they'd both seen, folie a deux or whatever the shrinks talk about. "Help me figure this out, man."

He stood there in anticipation as he watched the cogs turning. A mixed bag of emotions run their course over the man’s face, but soon a bright realisation dawned in his eyes.

“Because someone covered it up behind them,” he stated, a brief flicker of hope in his eyes. “Because he wasn’t dragged far.” He concluded.

Rua nodded and squeezed the man’s shoulder before turning to pick up his jacket and car keys.

The phone rang just as he was shucking on his jacket, and he picked it up distractedly.

"This really isn't a good time ri-" he began, before his chest seized at the harsh wailing that pierced through the receiver. He held it away from his ear, flinching away at the horrendous sound. He glanced back at Ciaran who was staring at the phone in horror, face white as a sheet as the wailing died down into thick chesty sobs.

He leaped across the desk and ripped the phone out of the detectives, bringing it to his ear with a shaky hand.

"...Diarmuid?" he asked, voice practically a whisper. "Diarmuid, is that you?"

The sobbing grew louder and the cries lilted with unfathomable despair.

" _Daddy_ ," the voice on the end of the line whined pathetically, tone drenched in fear. " _Daddy, I don't- I don't_ -" he hiccoughed and trailed off, his sobs and sniffling taking over once again.

"Tell me where you are, _mo chroí_ " Ciaran pleaded, fist clenching the receiver and his eyes screwed shut in pain. "Where are you?"

Rua's ears popped in the way they do when reaching a higher altitude, a different pressure. He winced back as the white noise of the receiver seemed to expand, the sobs and pleading of the young man devolving into static until suddenly it was morphing into something feral, something that drew the very breath from his lungs. 

It grew and it grew until it had drowned out the young man entirely, leaving instead the cacophony of terror that he'd heard on the video.

Just when he thought he couldn't stand it anymore, it cut off abruptly, leaving only the endless dial tone.

Both men stared at one another in horror.

“We have to go back,” Ciaran finally rasped, determination pushing through the fear. The detective nodded and glanced out the window, stomach clenching anxiously at the low hanging afternoon sun.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He turned his head to see Diarmuid facing away and curled up on his side under the sleeping bag, breathing softly in the darkness.  
> David sighed and shuffled close enough to press a gentle kiss to the back of his curls, inhaling the scent of campfire and soap with a small smile.
> 
> -
> 
> TW in end notes

David’s eyes snapped open.

For a moment all he could see was pitch, all-consuming in the confines of their small tent. As he blinked out the sleep and his eyes gradually adjusted to the night-time, he began to make out the faint amber glow of their dwindled campfire through the thin plastic sheet.

He turned his head to see Diarmuid facing away and curled up on his side under the sleeping bag, breathing softly into the darkness.

David sighed and shuffled close enough to wrap his arm around his chest and press a gentle kiss to the back of his curls, inhaling the scent of campfire and soap with a small smile.

Their time away from civilisation were memories that he knew he’d cherish forever: being together while they soaked up the gorgeous terrain and the beauty of nature that surrounded them, so far removed from the bustle of their daily routines. He loved their life together, of course, but getting to be around one another without any responsibilities or ringing phones was his closest idea of heaven. The fact that Diarmuid knew him so well and had planned this out for them had only made him fall deeper, if that were even possible.

The week was coming to a close and he wanted to savour every second they had left before they had to re-join the ranks of society: a selfish part of him imagined them staying out here forever, stuck in a little cabin with their animals and each other for company. It was a small fantasy that he held in his heart, and that he hoped one day might come true. An even deeper part of him whispered that he wouldn’t have to share Diarmuid’s time with anyone else, and he felt ashamed at how good that made him feel.

His thoughts continued to swirl in the gloom as he listened to the gentle chirping of the cicadas and the soft crackling of leaves. He closed his eyes and attempted to focus on them, expecting them to lull him off to sleep like it sometimes would in his army days, but his heart was still racing from his sudden jolt into reality. He didn't know what had woken him up, but years in the desert and the habit of keeping one eye open was a hard mark to shake. 

After a few restless minutes he finally gave up the ghost about trying to drift back off. He pressed another kiss to his fiancé’s curls and unravelled himself from the sleeping bag as quietly as he could, shuffling round and slowly unzipping the tent’s entrance with a wince.

Diarmuid snorted and his head shot up, letting out a mumbled _‘wozzat’_. David shushed him and brushed the wayward hair from his face, smiling at the pillow marks on his face and his oh so bleary eyes.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart.” He whispered and Diarmuid sighed, snuggling back into his covers.

“ _Wh’re you goin’_?” he asked, voice fading even as he spoke.

“Bathroom,” he said before he even realised that he actually did need to go. “I’ll be back.”

Diarmuid hummed in acknowledgement and settled down, leaving David to crouch out of the tent and zip it back up securely behind him.

The fresh night air was a blessing after the stuffy tent, and he inhaled it greedily. He slid his hands into his pockets and tilted his head back to look at the moon that seeped through the trees, catching a glint of stars through the heavy canopy. He let himself take a few moments to revel in the quiet comings and goings of the fauna before finally stepping out of the clearing to find an unlucky tree.

He walked for a few minutes until he could barely see the embers of the campsite and finally relieved himself with a deep sigh of relief. He tucked himself away and made to head back to the tent when a loud snap echoed through the clearing.

His whole body jerked around, his hands instinctively curling into fists at his sides as he took a defensive position. He held his breath as he focussed his hearing on anything out of the ordinary.

A minute passed.

Two.

His racing heart steadily slowed as he realised that while his mind may not have been playing tricks on him, it was probably just a falling branch or the snapping of a tree as it moved and expanded in the cool night air.

He exhaled and chuckled self-deprecatingly at letting his mind run away with him so quickly. He thought he was passed the point of being scared of the dark, but some instincts just didn’t disappear overnight. No hidden enemies or boogeymen to be seen. He shook his head and slipped his hands back into his pockets as he began his short walk back to the camp.

He was a few meters away when he looked up, a frown forming and his steps halting as he saw –

“Diarmuid.”

The Irishman was stood at the edge of the clearing and was staring deep into the treeline. He made no acknowledgement of David’s call, frozen in place as he continued to look out into the thick night.

“Diarmuid…!” He tried again, slightly louder. The man briefly turned to look at him without answering, and his puzzlement only grew as he watched him start walking out into the trees.

It took his feet a few moments to catch up with his brain, and suddenly he was following him past the campsite and into the woods. His stride was long, and he knew that he would be able to catch up with him in no time, but it seemed for every step he took Diarmuid would take two.

Part of him thought that maybe his fiancé was sleepwalking, but with his eyes adjusted to the night and with the help of the slim beams of moonlight he was able to see the way he steadied himself against the trees and pushed away errant branches. His fiancé was at least semi-aware of his surroundings, even if he was choosing not to respond.

“Wait, where are you going?” he called out as he quickened his pace to catch up. He stumbled on a wayward root, and when he regained his footing the man was nowhere to be seen.

“Diarmuid!” He called out once more, real panic beginning to grip at the edges of his lungs. He spun around to get a full view but all he could make out were the thickest of trees and the pervading darkness. “

He jumped out of his skin at the sudden appearance of someone at his side, and his fist was swinging before he could think about it. Fear overtook him as he realised it was Diarmuid just before the punch landed, and he jerked back with a yell.

“Jesus, what were you _thinking_?!” David demanded, frustration seeping through his relief at finding the man unharmed. He took a few deep breaths to centre himself, cradling his fist to his chest. “I could’ve hurt you, _Christ_!”

Diarmuid didn't respond. Something tingled at the back of the older man’s neck as he was finally able to get a good look at him, taking in his thin pyjamas and the almost luminous hue of his skin in the moonlight. He hadn’t broken a sweat despite his brisk pace, none that David could make out. His eyes seemed to track the older man’s movements, keenly watching the way his fingers rubbed over his knuckles and the heave of his shoulders as he panted.

David’s frustration grew into surprise as the younger man took a sudden pace forward, his hands reaching for him in the dark. The leaves crunched under his bare feet as he invaded his space, one freezing hand reaching up to cup his bearded cheek while the other lay on his broad shoulder.

“Wha-” he started to ask, before Diarmuid surged up and pressed their lips together firmly. David huffed in surprise at the small electric shock but leaned into the kiss on instinct, reaching up to curl his palm around the delicate wrist. The younger man stepped even closer until their torsos pressed together, guiding David backwards until he felt his back pushed up against a tree.

The darker man moaned as his fiancés hand worked its way slowly from his shoulder, down his chest, to finally cup him through his sweatpants. He hissed into the kiss and Diarmuid took the opportunity to curl his tongue into his mouth, gliding them together slowly as the older man pushed into his cold hand.

David could feel himself stirring despite his lingering unease. He tried to pull away from the kiss to ask if everything was alright, if he wanted to head back to the warmth of the campfire’s embers, but the palm that cupped his cheek slid around to the back of his head and held him steady.

The other hand finally slipped its way into the front of his pants and slid around his arousal, drawing a low moan from his chest. He reached out his own hand to gently push at the younger man’s shoulder, and he frowned when he was met with resistance. He opened his eyes and inhaled sharply at seeing that Diarmuid’s were staring straight at him, obscenely wide eyes unblinking as the younger man bit at his lip hard enough to feel a pinch and taste copper as he delved into his mouth.

A deep, sinking cavern opened in his stomach. He had the sudden and inexplicable knowledge that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

His back was digging almost painfully into the tree bark as he tried once more to lean away from the touch, but the smaller man only seemed to meld closer into him. He tried to jerk his head away to the side but the hand at his nape gripped him tighter, keeping him tethered.

The sudden echoes of someone screaming in agony could be heard in the distance, and his lungs constricted in terror.

That was Diarmuid’s voice, unmistakeable and ringing in his ears.

But Diarmuid was standing in front of him. Diarmuid was touching him, kissing him, and… and that wasn’t right, because Diarmuid had never been this quiet and… and he didn't smell like smoke and... what…

Another round of blood-curdling wailing reverberated through the thicket and he shoved at the body in front of him with all his might, finally ripping free from those questing hands and slippery tongue. The body fell onto its back, looking up at him with pale, wide eyes and an unnatural smile. With his heart pounding in his chest he stepped away from the thing, suddenly able to see how uncanny it appeared: like a parody of Diarmuid, lacking his movements or his freckles or even the shape of his cheeks.

“ _How_ …?” he whispered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he stumbled backwards in an attempt to put some distance between them.

Diarmuid – _the thing_ – its smile widened and it tilted its head. It closed its eyes and a look of… of absolute, terrifying _bliss_ crossed its expression as it listened to the wailing in the night, and David could feel bile crawling up his throat. He wanted to move, wanted to scream, wanted to do _anything_ but his disgust and horror left his feet like cinderblocks in a lake.

The thing opened its eyes when the screaming abruptly stopped. It pulled itself onto its hands and knees to slink backwards like an animal, movements slick and serpentine. Its white eyes never left his own as it let the gloom swallow it up, disappearing soundlessly into the trees.

His chest heaved in exertion, breath coming in sharp pants as he stared into the darkness. He could still feel the things tongue in his mouth, the pinpricks of pain at the nape of his neck. He couldn’t believe… he didn’t know… what…

He shook his head as clarity dawned on him once more, his eyes widening in dread at how silent the night had become.

 _Oh God_ , he thought, ice trickling in his veins, _oh God._ Before he could think twice, he had turned around and began sprinting into the direction that led back to the campsite. Stumbling through the thick pines with his heart pounding wildly in his chest, he prayed to anything that could hear him that he wouldn’t be too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: slightly dub-con between David and non-diarmuid


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciaran ran his hand over his face, holding his fist to his mouth as he stared out of the window unseeingly. “It was like some sort of interference. Like static turned up to a thousand.”
> 
> “There’s no radio shacks in that area, if that’s what you’re thinking.” The detective said, taking a long drag of his vape. “I thought the same too, first time I heard it. Then I thought it might be a wild animal, but…” he trailed off, frowning as he tried to forget the unholy screech.
> 
> -
> 
> This is where things start getting weird.

Diarmuid drifted gradually into consciousness, the strange and nightmarish images retreating with each heavy blink of his eyes. He felt his limbs slowly tether themselves back to the waking world and away from skewed gravity that went hand in hand with his dreams.

The room was dark with the curtains still drawn but he didn’t mind, groaning and stretching out his limbs on the soft sheets that cocooned him. He nuzzled his face into his pillow and breathed in the lingering aroma of David’s aftershave, smiling and holding it tighter in response. His body felt sore and achy as if he’d spent the night at the gym and for a moment he couldn’t understand why. He frowned and tried to blink away the fog of sleep to try and remember, when with a flush to his cheeks it all came bursting back as to how exactly they’d celebrated their engagement the night before.

His unease soothed, he reached an arm out towards the other side of the side and came up empty. He lifted his head and blinked over to see the bedsheets made and folded in a distinctly precise manner, and the coolness of the covers had him knowing they’d been that way for some time.

Clanking and shuffling from the other side of the apartment immediately solved the mystery of his disappearing fiancé. Diarmuid had one last stretch and finally got up, switching on the lamp and reaching for his pyjama bottoms and David’s large t-shirt that had mixed on the floor. As he pulled them on, he caught himself in the standing mirror. His eyebrows shot up at the scattering of bruises and marks on his chest and around his back. He twisted and turned to get a better look, marvelling at the amount of scratches that would explain the lingering tenderness. David could be… enthusiastic, and the celebrations and emotions of the night before had spurred them both into a haze of passion.

He snorted and shuffled towards the doorway, yawning and ruffling at his bedhead as he pushed it open and stepped into the hallway.

He froze on the threshold as he came face to face with dark and uneven stone walls, the odour of damp soil almost overpowering. A strange pale violet glow emanated from certain stones but barely lit up the narrow passageway. Steady droplets dripped from the humid walls and onto the ground, the sound echoing around him. The rhythmic clanking sound was muffled and emanating far into the depths of the passage, but Diarmuid’s heart began to pound as he realised the shuffling was steadily getting clearer.

He quickly stepped back into the room and shut the door, leaning on it as he took deep shaky breaths. His mind was racing, his fingers trembling, his eyes squeezed shut as confusion and panic coursed through him. He must still be asleep: it was the only explanation. He was still caught in his nightmare and he just happened to be lucid. That’s what it was.

The clanking sounds seemed to fade out from behind the door, but the shuffling only seemed to be accentuated without its accompaniment. It was getting louder and more distinct, like clothes dragging on the ground. He placed a palm over his mouth and held his breath as the steady steps drew closer, abruptly ceasing just outside the door.

He jolted when the door handle slowly started to click, and he threw his hand out to brace it firmly in place. He whimpered without meaning to as the handle jerked up and down with such sudden violence that Diarmuid had to throw his other hand onto it and brace himself against the door for a better grip. He willed himself awake, prayed to anything that was listening that he would snap out of it and be safe, but the jangling of the handle only grew more and more violent as it rattled the doorframe.

Just when he thought he wouldn’t be able to keep up his grip the handle was suddenly released, leaving Diarmuid panting and pushing it up as high as it would go with his full weight still thrown against the door.

For a few moments there was only the sound of his stifled breathing, the creak of his clammy palms against the metal handle, the racing of his pulse in his eardrums. He blinked away the panicked tears that stung his eyes, his whole being tensing for the next round.

In the ensuing stillness he quickly glanced around the room for anything he could use to protect himself. His eyes landed not on a weapon but on the mobile phone that sat on his bedside table, only a few paces away. If he was quick, he could run and reach for it before whoever was behind the door had realised he’d let go of the handle.

He clenched his eyes shut, psyching himself up to let go when the shuffling sound started up again. He glanced down and watched the shadows dancing and slipping away with each drag until only the pale violet light seeped through. He listened with bated breath as the steps continued further and further along down the corridor, until the faint sound of a door creaking and slamming shut echoed through.

He waited for as long as he could until finally he was forced to exhale, his palm once again coming up to block the sound of his deep gasps. His body felt like a giant tremor, adrenaline still pumping through him even as he rationalised that he had time to run for the phone. He had time. He did.

He pried one digit off the handle. A second. His fingers were stiff and raw from his tight grasp, and he saw deep red marks start to appear from the pressure.

He didn’t let himself think as the final finger was removed, and he lunged over the bed and yanked the phone from the table. He opened it with shaky hands and despaired at the sight of ‘no signal’ quickly manoeuvring himself back to the door.

He shook his head to clear his mind and tried to focus on the situation, like his father and David had told him to do when in a crisis. He knew he was dreaming. He knew he was underground. He knew he wasn’t alone.

His best chances of escaping were finding higher ground, trying to get signal to the phone. The thought of stepping out of the room and into the dark cavern had his stomach churning, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to stay there forever.

He shoved the phone into his pocket and braced himself once more, psyching himself up and getting ready to step out. He took a deep breath, prayed to whoever was listening for any kind of guidance, and threw the door open.

And blinked.

His hallway.

His and David’s _hallway_ , sage green walls scattered with framed photos and doors leading to the other rooms in the apartment. Morning sunlight poured through the doors which were slightly ajar, safely illuminating the area.

He felt bile rise in his throat. How… What did…

A door handle clicked beside him and he flinched, hands scrabbling at the wall and barely having time to brace himself before it swung open and his father stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing his hands on his jeans.

He stopped in his tracks upon seeing Diarmuid and took an instinctive step backwards, taken aback by the swirling of his expression between relief and terror. The older man frowned endearingly as he watched the way his knees were buckling, the tears in his eyes. A sob sprang from the young man’s lips, then another, until his chest convulsed and his body slid down the wall in exhaustion.

“Diarmuid?” The older man was on him in a heartbeat, encircling him and pulling him into his chest. Diarmuid gripped at his t-shirt and sobbed harder at the sound of his voice, clawing at his father’s shirt as the elder swayed him gently. Between two sobs he heard another door click open over his shoulder, but he paid it no mind as he let his father comfort him.

Diarmuid’s brows furrowed in bewilderment, however, when he felt his father freeze. He sniffled and pulled back to see Ciaran staring over Diarmuid’s shoulder in horror. There was that shuffling sound again, getting louder and louder and Diarmuid buried his face back into his father’s chest as his crying became hysterical.

“Diarmuid is that you?” The older man sounded haunted and Diarmuid shook his head frantically in denial because this wasn’t happening, he was safe, none of this was happening and yet why did it feel so real-

“ _Daddy_ …” he whined pathetically, “Daddy I don’t… I don’t…” he stumbled with his words as he felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck.

"Tell me where you are, _mo chroí_ " Ciaran pleaded almost feverishly, his grip on his son becoming painful. “ _Where are you_?”

The shuffling sound had stopped right behind him and he heard deep, rasping breath tower over where he was sat and bringing with it the stench of something cloying and decayed. It smelled like dry rot, like petrichor, like rotten fruit and a briny tide. He sobbed and sniffled in fear, flinching when something touched the back of his neck. He was mumbling nonsensically under his breath, pleas and prayers, as the finger swirled circles almost intimately at the top of his spine.

He heard a loud, deafening screech just as a cold hand gripped the back of his neck and then-

“It was the same sound,” Ciaran said, frown marring his face as he shoved his now fully loaded pistol back into his holster. “From the video and the… call, they were the same.”

“Yeah.” Rua agreed, eyes on the road in front of them. “I’ve never heard anything like it.”

Ciaran ran his hand over his face, holding his fist to his mouth as he stared out of the window unseeingly. “It was like some sort of interference. Like static turned up to a thousand.”

“There’s no radio shacks in that area, if that’s what you’re thinking.” The detective said, taking a long drag of his vape. “I thought the same too, first time I heard it. Then I thought it might be a wild animal, but…” he trailed off, frowning as he tried to forget the unholy screech.

“It has to be something underground, it’s the only thing that makes sense.” Ciaran continued, fiddling with the map anxiously as the headlights illuminated a road marker. They were about five minutes away from the trail, and unfortunately daylight hadn’t been on their side.

Rua was in two minds whether he should just turn the car around and head back to the motel for the night. It wouldn’t do for them both to be gallivanting around at night and doubling up the missing persons case, but he knew that Ciaran wouldn’t be swayed.

He’d already radioed it in and had Cathal promise to bring in the big guns if they lost all contact. All he could do now was make sure the older man wouldn’t get himself in trouble trying to dig up his son. If there was any of him left, after that horrifying call.

The detective frowned at the stray thought, refocussing on the road just in time to see something large dart out of the undergrowth and straight in front of him. He let out a sharp yell and tried to slam his feet down on the brakes but there wasn’t enough time to avoid the collision. His car jerked on the passenger side, Ciaran crying out and a horrible thud resonating through the vehicle as whatever animal it was exploded under the wheels.

He skidded to a halt on the tarmac a few meters away from the beast. The pungent smell of the clutch filled the car as his engine ran over loudly in the ensuing stillness. Both of his hands were gripping the leather steering wheel as his mind rushed to catch up with his actions. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead on the wheel with an aggravated sigh.

“You alright, son?” Ciaran asked hoarsely, gripping at his own shoulder where his seatbelt had dug in. Rua nodded and steadied his breathing, heart racing at whatever had just happened.

“Shit…” he whispered, leaning back and peering at his side-mirror. Sure enough, there was a mass on the road a few feet behind him illuminated with the red glow of his brake lights. He could see the still-twitching appendages of the animal. He very briefly considered leaving it alone and getting back on the road towards the campsite, but he’d never hit anything before and his heart felt heavy with guilt.

He switched off the engine but kept his lights on, reaching over into his glove box for his flashlight.

“Stay here, old man.” He ordered but Ciaran scoffed, already unbuckling his seatbelt.

His door creaked as he got out, flicking on the torch and walking towards the twitching creature slowly. He’d initially thought that it was a raccoon, maybe even a wild dog at a push. The closer he got, the more he realised that wasn’t the case.

A loud screech erupted from the beast, a wavering and shrill noise that pierced through the night and had him looking over at Ciaran in alarm. He cautiously came to a stop and loomed over the steaming carcass.

Horror and a morbid confusion washed over him. He’d never seen anything quite like it. The creature was about the size of a large calf, with a gaping jaw that leaned towards the sky as if crying out for something unknown. Blood -or what he assumed was blood, yellow tinged as it was- coagulated and slid limply between its sharp shark-like teeth. The whining shriek erupting from its cavernous mouth sounded like a metal spoon scraping over porcelain and his whole body cringed in an instant. Its hands were outstretched towards him with its fingers…its fingers clawing weakly at thin air.

Hands…fingers…it was unlike any animal he’d ever seen before.

“What is it?” Ciaran breathed out, his torch flicking over the dying thing and cringing at the wailing. “The sound… it’s…”

Rua nodded. His hand reached for the gun strapped to his hip, knowing that he needed to put…whatever it was…out of its misery.

He took a step back, aiming the gun at the still writhing creature. Its hind legs kicked out fruitlessly on the ground while its wailing grew louder, shrill like a whinnying mare or a wailing babe. It had his stomach roiling and his heart lurching at the same time, and he flicked the safety off.

Both men jerked back at low rumbling from beyond the pines followed by what sounded like a thousand cellos playing through a loudspeaker. It lingered on, loud and powerful and deep, and Rua’s gun fell out of his hand as he slapped them over his ears to lessen the ache.

He looked over and saw Ciaran in the same predicament, face scrunched up in pain as he held his palms over his ears, body hunching in on itself.

After a few blaring moments the sound abruptly cut off. Rua’s eardrums rang in the silence, and he cautiously took his hands away and picked up his gun.

Ciaran looked as if he were about to ask something when Rua noticed a dim purple hue emanating from somewhere deep in the forest. It seemed to be spreading, slowly growing in intensity and something inside Rua knew that he didn’t want to wait around and see what it brought with it.

“We’re leaving.” He stated, holstering his gun and throwing one last look at the whimpering creature. He was halfway to his car when he realised that Ciaran was stood still, staring into the forest and the like that kept getting brighter and brighter.

“Ciaran!” He shouted, jogging towards the car and tapping the hood. The man flinched but kept staring out into the forest. “Devil take you man, _let’s go_!”

That same ear popping high altitude feeling from earlier returned and his swallowed in an attempt to get rid of it, watching the older man in concern as the light continued to grow and seep through the trees. He could barely make out the man muttering something over the strange cacophony of noise, but a pit of dread opened in his gut at his almost catatonic state. The ringing and the brightness reached a crescendo and Rua had to look away, shielding his eyes with the back of his hand.

In the blink of an eye, it was over.

The detective’s ears rang in the sudden silence and he blinked the sunspots away and into the darkness. He looked up to check on Ciaran, mouth pursed around the first syllable of his name when he stopped short, eyes bulging in shock.

The officer had vanished, along with the thing he’d hit.

And in his place, stood… himself. Staring. Observing.

Waiting.

His jaw clicked shut as he stared back, disbelieving.

“… _Christ alive_.” He whispered shakily, flinching as the doppelganger smiled and took a step forward. His body scrambled into action as he shot into the car, cursing and locking the doors and picking up the dispatch radio with fumbling fingers and cradling his gun with the other.

“Dispatch – Dispatch come the _fuck_ in, is anyone-” He jumped when a rhythmic tapping started on his window, and he turned in horror to find his own face staring back at him. It was still except for the finger that tapped every other second, its long nail sharp and curled like he’d seen on a cat. It made no move to open the door, only stared at him with wide and unblinking eyes.

The static over the radio was loud and hopeless, only fragments of words getting through from what he could make out. He was barely listening, his whole body tuned into its fight or flight instincts as a surge of adrenaline rushed through his veins. His eyes flicked over that haunting grin, to the nail, to the door handle. If he was fast enough he could shove it back, stun it, just giving him time to-

Before he could plan any further a loud bang rang out in the clearing and Rua recoiled with a yelp at the sudden spritz of gore that sprayed across the window. He heard a thud as the thing hit the floor. He was barely breathing, panic filling his lungs and his thoughts as he spotted a broad figure step out from the other side of the road and start walking towards him.

As he deliberately stepped into the headlights, Rua took in as much as he could: a man, broadly built, bald with some sort of wolf tattoo on the side of his head that the detective could make out from the distance. He was dressed in leathers and holding a hunting rifle as if it were an extension of his hand. 

“…… _Rua…. C-me in…. d…ou copy, over_?” Cathal’s voice came through the once more functioning receiver, and Rua brought it up to his mouth distractedly, gaze fixed on the sullen looking man.

He clicked the button and for the first time in a long time, found himself speechless.


End file.
